Fearscape
by ErethrenGarav
Summary: John Crichton, is not the same, this is my 'unrealised reality', involving F.E.A.R, may not become apparent until later but the link is there and will become more noticable in changes on the TV series. It starts from the beginning, following the show. R


_**Fearscape**_

DISCLAIMER: none of this is mine absolutely; NONE. I've gotten inspirations from different games, different mods, different movies, this is purely for enjoyment not profit, if I owned Farscape I would have made a fifth season. But it doesn't have one therefore I don't own it. I don't own FEAR either. So you've been told… sue me, it'll be like trying to get blood out a stone. Wishful thinking aside I have no money.

Summary: unrealised realities, essentially the same but with one difference; Crichton. Fighter, Soldier, Commando. Militaristic, dangerous and trained. A warrior of what is fast becoming WW III John Crichton is not the southern space cowboy we all know anymore. Follows the series from Pilot, you don't need to know Farscape to enjoy it. It takes everything from the beginning.

So give it a try, you might like it.

_**Start**_

Cold blue eyes locked on to the open coms channels in his hud and he selected and isolated his command line,

"Canaveral, this is Wraith command, I'm manoeuvring Reaver one into position, thrust vectoring zero-g mobility functions are a one hundred over one hundred success, time to give the hats off to the brains of this outfit."

Wraith Commander; John Crichton jested as he pulled the prototype 'Reaver' into position. DK's crackling voice came over the com, strict, professional.

"Cut the chatter Wraith, you can pat yourself on the back if the reinforced weapons banks you're toting don't explode due to the atmospheric pressure." John shook his head,

"Have a little faith." He grumbled as the pessimism of the man behind the speakers made itself known.

"Not today commander." This was a different voice, Jack Crichton, deeper, controlled.

"General." John addressed his father stiffly, "Such an unexpected honour." How could it not be? Regardless of his offspring, Jack Crichton was a hero; war and otherwise.

"No need for titles son, I'm retiring soon anyway." John gave a wry smile

"Dad… this is an operation, we are supposed to general protocols, call signs are part of that." It still felt unfamiliar, after all these years. Jack gave a non committal grunt.

"You know I've never been one for regulations, the line's secure anyway." John smiled

"How could I forget?" he asked mildly, laughter filtered through the channel,

"Alcohol works rather well, I've heard." He had to bite back a retort, this was supposed to be a full operation. He frowned as a light came on signalling his craft's readiness.

"Alright, time to cut the chatter, I'm in position for the atmospheric skim. I should be coming in on a very steep vector once I hit the mass accelerator." John flipped a few switches in the cockpit and tested weapon functionality, each powered up in turn before he cut off the power feed to them. Everything checked out. The laughter had subsided, it was all business now.

"Remember John, intel indicates heavy surface to air weaponry so as soon as you hit the accelerator array and break atmo, you need to hit the deck and stick to it. We've coordinated aerial support to lay down carpet bombing but they won't commence until you start the run so your pull out of the hot zone should be pretty well covered by a wall of fire we're dropping their way." John nodded impatiently.

"Yes DK I know the plan, I came up with the plan, first run, I come in low altitude, and take out their communications, second run, I land, search and retrieve data, extraction by my fighter." Silence met his overview. He didn't give them a chance. "Commencing mission. Firing pulse detonation engines, plasma core operating at full capacity. Starting full burn." And with that, the ship speared forwards.

"_-Abort!"_

"_electroma…tics unstable"_

"…_wave…"_

"_Wraith Command, Abort!"_

"_JOHN!"_

**He felt her… just behind him, hidden. Humming softly to herself, her childhood lullaby, the same as the music box her father had given her, and then taken away just after her eighth birthday. Intermingled with light laughter, echoing, distant. Through the tunnel, the light, and the pounding headache that had hit him, he reached back behind the reclined flight seat and sought out a purchase on her. He found her hand, small, and gripped it, as she stroked the back of his hand with her other. **

**He gasped, "Please… come with me. Wherever I may be going." He ground out through the pain. Her grasp left him, her voice deepened, she was still humming absently. Ever beautiful to him, soft. Long, slim, bare arms wound around his helmet covered head and neck, and pulled at him tenderly. **

'**I'm not letting go' she whispered to him. Once upon a time he would have quaked at those words. But now he smiled and found the focus to pull away from the wall of the wormhole as it swirled around him violently.**

(Insert break)__

The coffin designed cockpit cracked open and John sat up, the Reflex power armour trying to compensate for his sluggish movements but they were jerky, the damn thing wasn't working properly. He felt as if he was waking from a long sleep, the blue… light, tunnel, had knocked him around, felt like the disorientating effects of being drunk, he just hoped there would not be after effects on par with how drunk he felt. The black, heavy leather coat about his shoulders rustled slightly as he rolled out of the pilot seat and dropped to the ground heavily. On all fours he coughed and shook his head roughly to clear it. His hardwired implants must have been disrupted by the… whatever brought him here, like the suit.

They weren't the only thing on the fritz; the optics in his helmet where buzzing him static feed like he'd just been hit by a megaton worth of electro-magnetic pulse charges. Unlocking the clasps on the air tight armour he discarded the helm and allowed the combat mask to slid back over his scalp, targeting eye patch like view-screens sliding to his temples as some of the overlapping scale like plates on his armour slid from view, revealing durable yet flexible black fabric, giving him more mobility yet making the suit no longer air tight. He reached up to grab hold of the outside of his ship. Hoisting himself to his feet with a subdued grunt he placed the helmet in his cockpit and brought out Achilles, an advanced, high velocity, heavy slug weapon.

The bulky rifle hung loosely from his hand as he brought it down, tapped the large magazine to ensure it was secure and then cocked the firing bolt. He then proceeded to pat himself down to ensure he had everything he needed; the rifle in his hands, and spare clips, though he'd have to restock from the matter compressors in his ship should he run low. A private Dan Wesson PPC revolver at a holster on his waist. Finally at the small of his back he had a plasma forged 'sniper' double edged combat knife. He'd completed long term missions with this load out and nothing more but what he could procure on site, sometimes, he'd have to start with less. But he hadn't had to go into battle suffering from ailments as debilitating as these.

He shook his head violently again as a wave of nausea hit him and he stumbled slightly. Discarding the armour concealing coat he hefted Achilles only to jerk around as he heard a peculiar squeaking. The rifle came up in an instant and was trained on a small yellow droid…

(Insert break)

The small buzzing machine led him through the massive ship's winding corridors, passing barred cells bare but for small bunks and chains hanging from the ceiling. The ship rocked ominously, concurrent with what he had seen on his way in, smaller spindly craft strafing the larger transport. Finally after long last, he was brought through another oval shaped doorway and stopped. He almost dropped the rifle. Aliens… they certainly weren't human, humanoid yes, but that was where similarities ended. Speaking rushed, garbled words that made no sense to him.

The droid near his boot squeaked loudly, causing one of them, the larger one he noted, to whirl around. Tentacles and braided auburn hair whipping about. Tattoos, iron circlets around the collar bones. The hairless _blue_ female gave him a cold glance, as the larger one snarled unintelligibly giving a wary look at John's armoured and armed form. It looked like he was trying to speak. John cocked his head to the side,

"What… what are you saying?" the droid squeaked again at his foot, but he paid it no mind, until it jabbed a syringe into his foot through a soft spot in his armoured boot and injected him with something. He kicked the droid away from him roughly but he remained steadfast in his vigilance of the two in front of him. And then they spoke again, but this time… he understood.

"-your ship" the larger, warrior like alien ground out, clearly angry. "What kind is it?" the other spoke up, a lyrical cultured and reserved voice

"You'd best answer him quickly, you know how luxons can be." He cocked his head to the side and remained silent. The 'Luxon' snarled

"Pilot, are the translator microbes working yet?" the image of another alien with a shell like skull appeared on a clamshell shaped projector,

"Yes, Ka'D'argo, they would have kicked in by now. It appears; he simply doesn't want to talk to you."

"High speed assault craft." John spoke up, the blue female smiled in relief.

"We don't know that technology, is it something we can use to escape?" John kept his gaze on them, unwavering, unnerving.

"No." he intoned simply. The luxon snarled… again

"'No' as in you can't help or 'No' as in you won't." John turned his gaze on the warrior.

"'Can't'" he clarified bluntly. D'argo was caught between disregarding what he'd said and throttling him or taking the honest answer for what it was, but even he knew that he was no match for this strange soldier, unarmed as he was. So in lieu of confrontation, he whirled back the console he had been working on before.

"Pilot I demand you give me manoeuvrability now!" he shouted, his anger couldn't be more obvious. Another explosion rocked the ship. "PILOT!" D'argo roared. The shell headed 'Pilot' appeared

"There is nothing I can do – not while the control collar is still in place." The ship rocked and Pilot visibly cringed in pain "Moya can't withstand this assault much longer!" with a primal snarl D'argo stormed to another console and ripped the cover off it. "What are you doing!?" Pilot exclaimed as the Luxon ripped out a number of wires and oozing pipes. "Those synapses you are tearing out are _not_ wired to the control collar." The alien being warned the other as John observed from the sidelines.

"Then I shall keep pulling them until I find the ones that are!" the Warrior responded. John didn't interfere but started to circle around the room, observing them, the technology and the aggressors that continued to strafe the ship. A low pitched whirring brought his attention to another alien being, this one about half a metre in height and sitting regally on a floating throne, he was decidedly froglike, same textured skin and a grey-greenish tone, his flat face was topped by two equally flat brow like ears. He looked to John with no small amount of scorn, his large eyes set aside his nostril slits narrowing in distaste. The blue female turned to the diminutive being

"The others-where are they?" she asked anxiously.

"There are no others," he answered in a rough voice sounding like he spent too much time in smoke filled back rooms "I've checked every cell level." He shook his head "I found a manifest, we were scheduled for transport to Terran Raa."

"Prisoners…" John murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Escaped prisoners." He amended

"Terran Raa…" D'argo whispered, shock in his voice. "That's a _lifers_ colony." He drew himself up as he stared determinedly at the view screen showing their bombardment. "I will not be taken prisoner again." Meanwhile the small floating alien hovered over to John cautiously as he had let the barrel of Achilles drop to a more at ease position.

"If things go to Hezmana let me do the talking, but remember your debts." John turned his cold gaze to the creature as it grinned conniving at him, but that stopped as soon as it had begun. John couldn't imagine why. The large Luxon stormed over to another console, ripped it open and resumed his destruction of what John guessed were the ship's controls.

"Attention" Pilot shouted "Hull integrity is reaching critical compromise." John took the information in and immediately sought of a way he could negate that threat to his person. The helmet or his craft, both of which were far enough away for him to worry. Without a backwards glance at the aliens he turned and sprinted from the room, the reflex armour already aiding his flight as its functions became smoother as did his hardwired implants.

Having memorised the way to and from what could only be the ship's hanger he was making good time when something hit him… no… he knew what it was…

**Gasping out he crashed to the floor in mid run, skidding and tumbling until he slammed into one of the rib like supports of the corridor. The wind knocked out of him, he groaned and clutched his head as he heard her screaming, ravenous, and hell-bent on getting to him. Something was moving them apart and she didn't like it. Her arms snapped around his shoulders, fingers digging into the armour, suffocating him. This couldn't have been worse than the wormhole, could it? Was it simply readiness? She wasn't as prepared as she was before? His arms wrapped around her even as he started to run out of breath, he rubbed soothing circles on her back and held her as tight as he could. **

"**Calm down" he whispered through the pain, "Calm down" he repeated, she drew back slightly and looked into his eyes. "Just focus." He implored and pulled her close as his vision blurred and became tunnelled and then… **

Black

(insert break)

He awoke in a cell, it took him less than a second to realise it. If that was the case it took him even less time to figure out they had found a way to remove the reflex power armour and the combat mask. He wasn't naked, they had at the very least given him the dignity of a jumpsuit they had in all probability found in his craft, that also means that they'd been through it, who knows what they had done to it. More importantly he found himself without weapons, Achilles, PPC revolver, and plasma forged combat knife gone from their places and there was someone leaning over him in the middle of a question

"-you alright?" Like him, clothed in a black unfamiliar leather jumpsuit an angular, straight faced woman started away from him as his eyes snapped open and he rolled into a crouch, putting distance between them. "Whoa!" she gasped out as he blurred in his movements, backing away as John sprung to his feet and brought his hands up in a half ready stance. She had raised her fists as well, seeing his movements as a sign of defensive hostility but she was ready nonetheless.

He watched her warily but suddenly snapped his gaze to the side and of all things a slight smile touched his face. His attention returned to the woman, he straightened and lowered his guard, she did the same, albeit slower. "Identify yourself." She stated calmly

"Commander John Crichton." He responded in a monotone. Usually that was enough

"What is your regiment?" she questioned "Pleizar?" he frowned, she elaborated "The Icarion battle group? Under Captain Bialar Crais? It must be, it's the only carrier in the sector…" she started to trail off as his frown deepened, she must have been one of those who had been strafing the ship before.

"Are you even a Peacekeeper?" His mind cycled through possible meanings, the only one relevant to him was peacekeeping military forces sanctioned by the world council to enter potentially volatile countries and placate situations. He shook his head, he was spec ops, black even, hardly someone meant for United Nations operations though he had been part of one or two for a public face.

"Wraith command." He stated, remembering that he was no longer in normal Terra space. She was military but not one to recognise a feared call sign. She sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly before she straightened, doubtlessly military conditioning kicking in.

"Well, what Sabacean colony do you originate from?" he hesitated and was spared further awkward conversation by the low whine of the flying throne. The strange frog like creature made its presence known with a snort.

"I doubt he even knows what you are talking about, Peacekeeper… he's not a Sabacean." The soldier sharing his cell returned her gaze to him, her gaze confused and now cautious. She forgot her position of prisoner and simply let her shock show.

"What?" the froglike alien appeared from behind the crisscrossed bars of the cell, smug smile still firmly plastered to his flat face.

"Well, if he was Sabacean, he's not anymore. He has more technology and augmentations underneath his skin than a command carrier has decks, his entire skeletal structure is encased in some sort of metal, no normal Sabacean could have even hoped to survive that procedure." He sneered

"Probably why you Peacekeepers haven't tried to implement such a technique yet… his spine and even his brain is hardwired with devices, artificial nerves and even drugs that, we can only assume quicken his reaction times, it's a wonder his own biology hasn't rejected and destroyed the translator microbes with all the safety defences his physiology has been tempered with. Why he didn't have them already is a curiosity." The being shrugged, "he doesn't speak much anyway." John remained silent as the woman studied him and it clicked; Alien… she looked human, dressed and moved like one, but decidedly, the culture was different, she was from… _here_.

"Just because he does not speak to you Rygle, does not mean he does not speak at all." The new voice startled 'Rygle' into turning quickly to face the blue female John had seen on the bridge. She smiled kindly at him. Smiling through bars… John could only imagine it as unusual. "Though we are curious as to _who _you are." John didn't respond but turned away from the cell door and walked towards the back of the room, all the while surveying it, the walls, roof, what it contained what he could use.

"No one of any consequence to you." He deadpanned. A gruffer voice joined in, the Luxon

"That doesn't satisfy our curiosity… answer the question." He demanded. Now, in control he felt powerful, bolder, different circumstances would have prompted a different conversation, John thought, in fact he was sure of it. He turned back to the cell door, all three of them, hovering just behind the bars.

'_It would be so easy'_

'**he dashed forwards, faster than should be possible, his form slamming against the bars, bending them, his hand shot through the gap and grasped the blue woman's neck and then he withdrew just as quickly as he'd come. **

**Her skull broke, fractured easier than a normal humanoid's under his strength and the relatively unyielding metal of the bars. She appeared off to the side. D'argo saw her and let out an echoing shout of surprise and shock as she stepped towards him, distorting the area around her, bending light. **

**His flesh disintegrated and his black blood coated the entire corridor as he let out a last cut off scream as he was basically liquefied. He saw terror in the… she sought out the name for him… 'Delivian' Priestess even as her consciousness faded from her trauma and he succeeded in ripping out her trachea as Rygle in turn became a puddle of alien bio fluids, not even a consistent skeletal structure remained. **

**The cell door ripped itself open, and he strode out nonchalantly leaving the Peacekeeper alive, shaking with fear against the cell wall, eyes wide in unnatural dread, and mouth dropped open in a perpetual, silent scream.'**

'_**NO!'**_

"NO!" he almost shouted, more gasped out, his hand came to his forehead trying to dull the almost incapacitating headache that came with her impulsive vision. "No" he whispered. His captors and even his co prisoner recoiled slightly in shock at his outburst.

The Delvian as she had informed him, Zhaan had a more volatile reaction, taking more than a few steps back from the cell, but her reaction was quickly guarded and nullified, she frowned, confused for a moment.

'**I made her forget… she can see them**' her voice whispered into his ear. He closed his eyes, hand to his forehead, sliding to his temple, brushing away his hair.

"Get me out of here." It was a level request but it in itself betrayed unease, the Peacekeeper was scared of him. He almost laughed.

"A problem my dear?" Zhaan asked her coldly her attention, undoubtedly being forced away from him.

"He's frelling insane." The captured soldier… 'pilot' John corrected, tried to reason with the three outside. This time, he did laugh.

"Insanity is but a matter of perspective." Rygle chuckled dryly,

"A philosopher as well." John shrugged, his humour gone. The Luxon scowled,

"Enough of this!" he held a bulky sword now, more like a massive double edged cleaver than a sword, it gave him authority, the others listened. He leaned closer to the bars "We will find out your origins, whatever they may be, but now, it's time for us to eat." He hadn't noticed John stiffen at his wording.

(insert break)

"This ship… is alive? Sentient?" the soldier next to him frowned as they were carted along, D'argo at their backs, sword drawn, snarling should either of them breath in the wrong direction, that was to say almost constantly either snarling or growling, John tuned him out.

"She's a Leviathan, Biomechanoid. Where did you say you where from exactly?" she hadn't quite gotten over her fear of his apparent mental instability but had indulged his curiosity with what she thought common knowledge.

"Earth, Northern hemisphere, America, Kansas, later Auburn City…" he paused "No… Auburn City, then onto Kansas." She didn't answer, indicative of not having a clue what he was talking about. Their captors sat them down at a table in the ships galley, a tier down from the ships 'command' eating the strange almost ration like food cubes the ship had in storage in silence while D'argo defended his actions to Pilot. Despite their current situation of freedom, recriminations for smaller circumstances had to be expected.

"Feeding us…" John murmured.

"For information." The woman said shortly as she popped another cube into her mouth. John sighed.

"They won't get any information… accurate information from me. Not with how long I've been here." She hummed her response, a kind of non committal one that was all she could offer. John leant back slightly. At least the tension wasn't tangible enough to slice with a knife, given her appearance he could move past the fact that she wasn't human and he supposed the same worked vice versa, at least they could socialise. Come to think of it, this was the most conversation he normally got in a week.

"_You'd dump ME?!_" Rygle was squawking in outrage "I bribed the security drones at the last checkpoint! I-" his rant was cut off by the newly formed group's voice of reason; Zhaan.

"_Gentlemen, _I suggest we focus on the situation at hand." Her sharp reprimand brought D'argo and Rygle under control rather quickly. She walked to John and the Peacekeeper and knelt before them,

"This commerce planet…" she began, addressing the woman more than John "before we approach we have to know; is there Peacekeeper presence in this system?" her question was met with indifferent silence as the captive continued to eat unperturbedly. The blue alien turned her attention to John, asking the same question with her eyes. He raised an eyebrow,

"You think I know?" he asked before giving a half snicker, "Please, the suspense is killing me." He answered wryly. D'argo grunted in annoyance.

"We are wasting time we do not have. She is infantry; Peacekeeper command tells her where to fight and die." John frowned as he thought he heard… gas escaping something… something biological and promptly began to hold his breath as the warrior turned his attention on him "And this one is half traumatised by whatever he's had to do as a soldier. He's obviously mentally unstable and needs to… be…" over the course of his rant, the large being's voice had gradually become higher in pitch. Rygle looked vaguely guilty. John stifled a laugh… "Helium!?"

(insert break)

She was at the bars now, grunting in a vain effort to pry them open. John looked on from the back of the cell. In his own musings before he spoke up.

"What's your name?" she stopped in her hopeless struggle to turn to him. She let out a breath, he chest heaving

"Officer Aeryn Sun, special Peacekeeper commando." He already knew the rest. He stood.

"Wraith commander, John Crichton, special operations, black operations… Harbinger Paragon." He finished restating his identity. Most of it would require in depth explanation. But what was more important was the child in a red dress moving past the door. "Soldier with…" he trailed off with a nod as the door slid open "Special benefits." he explained blandly.

(insert break (just a small one))

"So you're not going to tell me how you inexplicably opened a door without being anywhere near the controls?" John shook his head,

"Trade secret." He explained evasively.

"What is it? Some sort of frequency emitter?" John sighed,

"I suppose." Technically she was an emitter, but probably not the kind Aeryn thought.

"They stripped you down when they examined you. What? Is it embedded in your skin?" she was getting closer, she just didn't know how close.

"Not me." He muttered. He didn't respond further and changed the subject.

"I need to find my armour and equipment." Aeryn didn't nod, but she didn't disregard his objective.

"I think the Delvian…err, the blue one. Was talking about storing it in the docking bay." John nodded and frowned,

"The docking bay is _that_ way" he said, pointing off down another corridor, "what are you doing now?" Aeryn kept going without pause

"I'm going to sabotage this ship." She stated simply. John was there, hand taking hold of her wrist, and somehow nullifying her defensive reflex actions as he did so, simply pulling back the other way.

"Ohhhh no you're not." Aeryn shook hand free,

"They are criminals." She protested feeling slightly more angry than normal, when he had took hold of her she had acted as trained to deal with him but he was hardly even looking at her. It was as if his actions couldn't be countered normally.

"They are also dead in the water already." Her brow furrowed

"Dead in the water?" John spared her a glance for a moment, but then stopped completely,

"You have got to be joking." He turned and walked towards the cargo bay leaving her to follow in his wake. "Dead in the water- their boat is leaking, they are drifting dead, sabotage is not necessary, does this compute?" he asked as if speaking to a computer. "They need…" he searched his memory, what D'argo had been shouting what they truly needed to Rygle in the galley. "Iriscentent fluids for… what they did before… starburst and propulsion even. They can't move anywhere fast, at… Hetch two." Yes she DIDN'T like what these aliens called Starburst.

The information came as she gave it to him. "They aren't going anywhere at the moment no matter what supplies they may find on the commerce planet down there, it will still take time for them to restore this ship to maximum operation. In that time I suggest we find a way to; one, get off this ship, and two, contact your people. We stay to do something unnecessary, we allow any who would to capitalise on our vulnerability." She stared at him blankly. "What?" he asked slightly irritated, she blinked

"Nothing I just…" John nodded with a kind of condescending understanding,

"Yes, yes, I know, you didn't think of it that way." He kept walking, hearing the Aeryn's footsteps behind him "they say great minds think alike." He murmured to himself, more accurately, two minds are usually better than one, never mind in what condition they were. Aeryn followed, still somewhat bewildered

"I was going to ask if you were sure you weren't a Peacekeeper." They rounded a corner, "What the _frell_ is that." John followed her gaze to his ship, its forwards swept wings folded forwards and down, covering the landing gear, like a hawk about to take flight.

"What, you didn't see this on the way in?" she shook her head,

"The Luxon knocked me out with his tongue," John gave her a slightly disturbed glance, no matter how he heard that it really didn't sound right. The coffin designed cockpit was closed and some soft cloth was hanging out of it. John stifled a laugh, they had brought the jumpsuit he was now wearing from the ship and it had almost closed on one of them when they had, hence the errant article of clothing. He walked to and stopped a few metres short sensing an almost inaudible hum in the air.

"Reaver, activate voice command and AI functions." A shimmering shield comprised of a continuous pattern of glowing blue hexagons flashed into visibility. A monotone computerised voice spoke up, startling Aeryn.

"Welcome back Wraith commander, I was starting to get lonely." John chuckled,

"Crack the shielding Grim, I'm needing to get a little closer." The ship complied, not dropping the shields completely but literally 'cracked' them open near John and allowed him to slip through. It closed up behind him quickly as he did a quick survey of the ship's exterior. "All in order," his voice seemed far away, distorted to Aeryn, "Grim; take shields offline." They did so, each energy plate shimmering out of existence. "Grim this is Officer Aeryn Sun, guess what? She's-"

"Alien." John frowned as he was interrupted

"I was going to say not human but that works too." He looked to Aeryn who watched on with undisguised awe.

"Computer intelligence." She mumbled, John heard her

"Sentient though not emotive and to a degree even more adaptive than standard programs, also loyal. Officer Sun, meet Grim." She didn't respond until he walked up to her and leaned closer "Introduce yourself." He prompted. She shot him a look before tentatively addressing the AI

"I'm Aeryn Sun… Peacekeeper." The ship hummed slightly, processors going over data it had collected.

"A militant race, primarily pure breed Sabaceans; not unlike humans in physiology. They are governed by a high council acting as a poly-dictatorship, how you get anything done without infighting is beyond my processor speed." Grim remarked. Aeryn bristled slightly at the insult to high command before stopping herself

"Wait, I thought you just got here, how do you know so much already?" the ship answered for John

"Earth communications though continuously advancing is in an inefficient stage using rudimentary signal technology. Since arrival I've been able to pick up innumerable broadcasts in though a more efficient signal, easy enough to decode, some of them can be tracked back to possible information outlets." She clicked

"You followed the communication signals back to hard sources and you… you hacked into them…" John nodded thoughtfully as his own mind thought ahead of the implications

"Affirmative.' Know thy opponent'. As a result of my programming I am taking pre-emptive measures against those who may be possible hostiles to both myself and the commander, Peacekeepers included." John winced before the computer even finished.

"What he means is, we know next to nothing on how to survive… here…" he trailed off pathetically, lacking any plausible name to give their location, "we need to learn what we can to do so. Neither of us…" he looked at the ship's outward optical sensors near the cockpit pointedly "Want to cause any sort of trouble." She nodded, finally getting over her wonder and back to their present situation

"I'm still taking mine." John looked past his own craft to her spindly fighter and gave it a critical appraisal. Propulsion on the spear wings and weapons just inside them on small struts. Between the manoeuvring engines on the spear wings was the main hull also holding thrusters. Black and red, reminded him of how some night flyers would requestion a black shark paint job with a large gaping red mouth and white teeth. 'menacing' John summed up. 'not enough room in Reaver anyway.'

(insert break)

The craft touched down with a barely noticeable jolt, thrust vectored VTOL jets making the landing quite a bit easier. The coffin opened up and John dropped out, all suited up in the reflex armour Grim had located in a crate not far from where the actual craft was and his weapons. Though his helmet was absent, needing recalibration before use, the low light settings were constantly engaged. The coat drew attention away from him, not many could see the armour underneath it. Though Achilles would bring attention, it wouldn't bring that much. Aeryn's 'Prowler' landed nearby and he strode towards it as the cockpit opened and she stepped out. Headset on and still speaking into it.

**John stopped abruptly as the image shifted in a shock of miasma. There stood a tall proud, dark haired man with a goatee in Aeryn's place. Young, and… innocent. Without warning, he disappeared in a burst of ashes.**

The vision ended as rapidly as it had appeared. John shook his head and continued over as Aeryn gave him a strange look, even as she addressed whomever was on the other side of the com channel with respect.

"Yes sir. The Leviathan is orbiting the planet and is more or less disabled." She nodded sparing a glance at John. "Yes. And his craft…" she was silent for a moment as if pondering before she winced "Yes sir, consider it done." She took off the headset and walked towards him, "I've contacted the battle group I was assigned to, apparently the main command carrier is moving to our location, they should be here in less than half an arn." 'hour' he remembered as his ship had briefed him on the way some of the language deviated even through the microbes. John nodded while turning around and looking towards the crowded market.

He didn't surprise easily but when he did happen to be surprised he hid it entirely too well. All types of alien life forms you could thing of and more swamped around the crowded stalls, bickering and haggling over prices.

"What do you suggest we do in the meantime?" Aeryn nodded to the crowed "We look for the prisoners. All three of them came down." John frowned "What about the Pilot?" more knowledge came to him "Wait, don't answer that… he's fixed in place, stupid question." Aeryn looked to him as she came up beside him "Yes, it was." John rolled his eyes.

(insert break)

"That's one of the Leviathan's transport pods, they're getting away." John sighed,

"All the better, no chance of a confrontation now." Aeryn opened her mouth to rebut but John beat her arguments before they had begun "You are not armed and you are banking on the idea that I would protect you." She stopped and stammered slightly.

"They are 'PRISONERS'," she began with emphasis as if he didn't know already "_escaped_ prisoners, they must be recaptured." It was at that moment that a heavy set and now armed Luxon emerged from the crowds, cleaver in hand.

"Or _destroyed_" he finished for Aeryn. The two backed up quickly into a less crowded area as D'argo advanced, Aeryn turned and threw her hands up in a defensive stance. D'argo sneered at her meagre chances of even surviving the encounter. "Do not tempt me." That was when John stepped forwards, Achilles slung over his back, one hand creeping back to wrap around the hilt of his 'Sniper' knife at the small of his back. Aeryn looked surprised given his previous words.

"There is no need for this" John reasoned.

"There is every reason." D'argo responded as he circled them. John shifted his centre of gravity lower.

"You don't have the time, the Peacekeepers are on their way." Aeryn remained silent as she saw the large combat knife slide out of its sheath and concealment, the edge was a glowing hot orange.

"We know… a full carrier apparently, which is why I'm taking you both back to Moya as insurance." Something clicked into place and John looked back at Aeryn

"They asked about me?" it wasn't really a question. She nodded, she wasn't trained to question, just follow orders and report to them. John returned his gaze to D'argo even as the warrior charged. Now he understood why Luxon's were feared combatants. John lowered his centre of gravity and swept forwards combat knife behind him in a reverse grip.

The 'Qualta Blade' descended quickly in an overhead strike that would have brained him had he not brought the knife up in a block across his forearm, he pushed up with more strength than he should have had and D'argo's eyes widened as he stumbled onto his back foot. John spun, almost in a low crouch and brought his heel into D'argo's knee bringing him to the ground. The knife came forwards and stopped just shy of the Luxon's tattooed, elongated chin. The warrior tried to remain steadfast as he even felt the searing heat of the strange blade just far enough away to leave him unburned.

It seemed as if movement froze around them, all the mulling aliens watching the proceedings with caution and curiosity. Aeryn looked on, shocked, a single man had subdued the Luxon warrior and then to further her shock, stepped back from delivering a killing blow, his face still grim as he sheathed the knife.

"I do not want your death on my conscience." He sighed "It's too early for killing." John flinched suddenly looked up to see a disturbance in the alien merchants, a child's voice echoing through his head as black armoured forms moved through the crowed

"**They are here." **

A tall, upright man wearing a stylised uniform of what John could only assume was an officer emerged from the group as D'argo was surrounded and forced into cuffs… their eyes met, cold blue to livid hazel. She whispered to him again.

"**I don't like them" **

John gripped his forehead as another headache assaulted his senses, his vision red rimmed, his own pulse pounding in his ears.

"**You may not have a choice"**

"Captain Crais." Aeryn addressed sharply, disciplined as she was taught. She moved to stand at attention, ready for inspection, just like a good grunt. The sight made John sick. She was ignored as most were.

"You..." he spoke up hesitantly, trying to control himself "you fly that ship?" he said gesturing to Reaver behind them. John stood to attention, he had no reason to be disrespectful. At least he hoped he didn't. He brushed back his hood, showing his face.

"Correct, Sir." He addressed the officer, eyes locked forwards. "Name?" this 'Crais' questioned sharply, eyes locked with John's face.

"John Crichton, Sir." Crais gave no inclination it was even an unusual name, but for all he knew, it was one.

"And where are you from - John Crichton?" Aeryn spoke before he could, John frowned, 'strange'.

"Sir, he claims to be a human, from a planet called…" she paused slightly "_Earth" _well, at least she got it right.

"He's shown himself to be-" she was cut off.

"To be what, Officer Sun?" he turned his glare upon her, and she clammed up apparently this was her lashing for speaking out of turn "A clever _imposter_? An _accomplice_ to a ship full of escaping prisoners. My brother's _murderer_?" His voice remained relatively level even as he decked out his accusations and dared them to be questioned.

"I have killed _no one_ since my arrival." Crais was already refocusing his attention back to him.

"To the contrary, you charged my brother's Prowler in that fighter of yours." Crais fumed his composure cracking

"I did no such thing." John retaliated. But then his eyes widened imperceptibly "wait…" the shields hadn't gone offline when he exited the wormhole, but their remote sensors that monitored contact with them were fuzzed out, for all he knew, he could have had a head on just after coming out of the tunnel and not even felt it as fast as he was travelling. Sheer velocity wouldn't have allowed him to, and the shields would have just made sure he didn't break apart upon impact. "Any action I may have taking that you perceived to be against your brother… you must understand was in no way intentional." But he could already see it… he was too far lost to his fury.

"It didn't have to be to yield the same result." He turned back to Aeryn briskly before he continued to speak to John. "_Human_?" he shot a confirming glance at the pilot. "Truly…that will require some study. I will _personally_ enjoy pulling you apart to see what you are made of."

"**Grab the crash cart," flash, pain, they were tearing him apart, ripping his organs out his stomach. Flash, colour, **

"**Dr York?" Aristide over the intercom. **

"**He's in tachycardia we need to stabilize him." **

"**There is no time." Flash, pain, agony, his hands gripped the side of the operating slab, screaming, his own. Flash, colour **

"**Jesus!" **

"**He's conscious, this shouldn't be happening." **

"**Then dope him again," **

"**It'll kill him!" **

"**Just do it!" blackness. Flash, pain, she was there, watching, waiting. Flash **

"**he's stabilizing… we didn't do anything." **

"**He's also awake again." **

"**Can't dope him, we're pushing it as it is." **

"**Very well, proceed to the final stage." A sigh as the needles came down. **

"**Alright." The doctor looked at him. "You'll feel a… little pinch." **

**Agony**

John's gaze shifted to the man, "Been there… done that." He murmured bitterly to himself as guards moved towards him to take him into custody along with the Luxon, he tensed for action as Aeryn spoke up.

"Wait-" she came out hesitantly, she obviously hadn't thought this through. Crais turned to her, his eyes alight with a dangerous gleam.

"_Yes_ Officer Sun?" he snapped "You know something of this… alien?" spitting out the last word. Aeryn was stiff as she answered, still nervous.

"I… I've spent time with him sir… and I… believe him when he says what happened to your brother was an unintentional." She paused "I've learned he is part of an isolated yet… relatively technologically advanced military" she admitted grudgingly, taking into account what she had heard while in the cell from Rygle. "As a soldier, I know that one of his calibre… does not exceed their mission parameters." John was hiding a smile, it must have been burning at her to be complimenting him as well as defending him, but he had to question why. "And I believe the last thing he wanted to do was instigate a possible hostile confrontation between himself and an unknown race to him at the time." She hesitated to collect her thoughts. "His craft is advanced and doubtlessly holds weapons with which he could engage an enemy, it would not have made sense to physically ram your brother's Prowler when there were safer ways to dispatch him." She winced at the wording "what happened could _only_ have been an accident, sir." Crais shifted his gaze between the two,

"Exactly how much time have you spent with this… 'Human'?" he questioned almost musingly. If possible, Aeryn stiffened even more, and opened her mouth to answer but faltered, John sensed it was time to returned her favour.

"Not a large amount of time. I don't even think we made contact." That was a lie, he had taken hold of her hand before on the ship, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't contradict him. While Crais wasn't looking he offered her a small, almost unnoticeable nod. Her expression lightened slightly. However it didn't change anything as Crais continued.

"Because as you know, Peacekeeper High Command, has very clear parameters regarding contact with unclassified alien life forms. You may have very well exceeded those parameters Officer Sun." terror bloomed on her face. He didn't' like it.

"No, sir-" she started trying to defend herself even as her captain hammered in the last nail.

"You may be irreversibly contaminated." He turned away satisfied,

"No! Sir, I-" Aeryn was drowned out.

"Take them away." Crais began "take them all away." the guards continued forwards…

_The world around John slowed to a crawl._

His vision sharpened, became more detailed he could see the weave of the material the guards wore underneath the fibreglass like armour, he could hear their breathing, he could feel his own pulse. His hand snaked to the hilt of his knife the second time that day and slid it out of its sheath, the metal ringing slightly. He took a step forwards and leapt up, brining the knife back before driving it through the helmet of the one on his right and then spinning to drag it across the throat of the second. They both went limp.

The smell of burning meat filled the air as John ripped the PPC out of its holster and putting a left handed snap shot into the forehead one of the soldiers advancing on Aeryn before repeating the action with one of the guards at D'argo's shoulder. The Luxon subsequently took this opportunity and heaved against the other guard and smashed him violently against a wall and retrieving his sword as John advanced on Crais turning at the sounds of the disturbance. He didn't give him a chance, switching both weapons between his hands, PPC to his right and knife to his left he laid his right arm across the captain's shoulder pointing the revolver at the guards flanking him while the knife came up to his throat.

More Peacekeepers came from the crowed, presumably their backup. "Take another step and your captain loses his carroted." He barked out. They stopped. John smiled coldly, turning to the captain "Does this irrevocably contaminate you?" the older man scowled.

"Unhand me." He ground out.

"No I don't think so captain, I'm gonna see if you catch space flu." John hefted the revolver and aimed it dead centre on the leading guard's forehead as he started to direct troops to recapture Aeryn and D'argo. A third shot rang out, and the commanding guard dropped like a sack of potatoes. John edged forwards until he was level with the unfortunate officer that had so recently been removed from duty. He looked to Aeryn

"Find cover, now." the abrupt command snapped her into motion and she did so, moving back towards the ships and taking refuge behind one of the last stalls before she got there. He didn't have to mention for D'argo to do the same. Then an idea came to him, something definitely wasn't in the text book of strategic manoeuvres. Yeah the military had thought of it before in a broader sense but not like this. It was a second nature tactic, something that; for a solo operative like himself, he didn't get often, he scratched his memory for a moment.

Ah yes, he remembered now. He gave a slight chuckle. "Grim?" he called out. It wasn't loud but the ship heard him, shields flashing to visibility. "Activate VTOL functions and rotate towards my location." The ship didn't take long to do as it was told. 'Harrier' like thrust vectoring nozzles powering up and spitting out plasma fuelled flames. The engines of the ship whined at increasing pitches as it powered up to full capacity and lifted off, wings cupping the air beneath it. It banked slightly and turned towards the street they stood in. "Mark the two behind me as friendly." Crais shook slightly.

"What- what are you doing human?" John stifled a full laugh this time

"Captain Crais, you are an officer of the military, I'm sure you are familiar with the concept… or is it even true here, that Generals, at least some, die in bed? Is it the same for captains?" He smirked at Crais' expense.

"Grim… Peacekeepers are hostile… provide covering fire." And the alley in front of them disappeared in a storm of shrapnel, slugs, and dust as twin internal Vulcan 30mm Gatling guns either side of the ship's nose opened fire, spitting out a constant stream of muzzle flashes, breathing flames and high velocity rounds at their enemies. As the ship's guns roared John brought the hand wrapped around his knife back, and drove his knuckles into the base of the captain's neck.

Crais dropped, unconscious as John turned, sheathed and holstered his respective weapons before shouting out another command. "Grim, switch to hammerhead rounds!" The onslaught paused briefly and John literally heard the weapons cycle, disconnect and recycle, cocking automatically as 35mm hardened depleted uranium slugs chambered and then without further adieu, opened fire again. This time the rate of fire was slower as the rounds manually cycles through the chambers, fired, recoiled and then cycled again. The projectiles thudded out their deeper, heavier reports over the engines and left concentric bluish-green contrails in their almost instantaneous passage.

Achilles slid from his back as John shifted his gait slightly, the grip of the gun falling conveniently into his right hand's grasp. He swung the barrel up as he turned and slid to one knee as the pavement lost its original traction with all the chaotic chunks of debris hurtling around the place. He stopped, level with the stall that the Luxon and Aeryn where crouched behind. "Go. Get to the Prowler, I've got you covered." D'argo nodded instantly, but Aeryn hesitated, even as John squeezed the trigger on his rifle, firing from the hip.

The assault weapon almost matched the hammerhead strikes of 'Reaver' in volume, thudding out gunshots and adding to the cacophony of gunfire. He paused and raised the rifle butt to his shoulder for more accurate aim before continuing to fire off bursts. The hammerhead rounds stopped coming, ammunition needing restock and the Vulcans rattled to a stop. His peripheral vision caught on that Aeryn wasn't moving. He stood, still firing, "Get up!" he shouted "Come on, MOVE!" he grabbed her by the collar and hoisted her up before pushing her towards both his and her ship. D'argo was already climbing into the cockpit of the Prowler even as the Reaver switched back to normal rounds. John turned quickly and put a single round into the chest of a Peacekeeper that emerged from the shrapnel miraculously unscathed, dropping him.

"No." Aeryn muttered in protest more to herself than anyone else as she was pulled along. He put himself between her and danger firing off a few more rounds, grunting out,

"Look princess, we can talk this over when we get to safety." He paused to let off another round before the rifle clicked at empty, the magazine fell lose, catching it and stowing it for restock, John inserted another clip and cocked the bolt as he kept speaking "Right now; you're down range," Further words died before he could form them as the cockpit of the Prowler slammed shut and the fighter took off, shakily but the Luxon could pilot. "FUCK!" John swore and changed direction towards the Reaver. "Grim, crack shields and let us in!" he commanded as he spun and took a one handed shot that dropped another Peacekeeper.

The pentagonal panels, closest to them slid apart, and the craft landed, as the shields folded back beneath others and granting them passage, he pushed Aeryn in and took another burst that made a few guards retreat behind cover before diving in behind her. "Close up!" the shielding slid shut and flared to full power, protecting its pilot and his… guest. The coffin designed cockpit cracked open not unlike the shields had, metal plates sliding aside letting the reclining flight seat become visible, "Here." He patted the edge of the folded down wing, indicating a foothold up to the cockpit. "You can climb up here." Still Aeryn was shaking her head.

"No… I- I will not come with you." John gave a frustrated sigh.

"You don't have much of a choice, irreversibly contaminated as you are." He winced, for all he was saying he was also the one responsible for her now alienated position. "Look… I'm sorry you're in this situation, I'm sorry that I'm ripping you away from your life. But irreversible contamination doesn't sound like it leads to an easy retirement." He raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction even as burning red energy from the Peacekeepers pulse weapons bounced harmlessly off the shielding. "It's a death sentence isn't it?" she nodded

"But… it's my breeding, my training, who I was born to be, what I am." He spared the guards a glance

"Then adapt, survive, become something better." She stopped resisting, and climbed up after him. He slid down onto the seat as enemy fire became more intense but still remained as ineffective. "It's a tight squeeze, you'll have to lie on top of me. 'Reaver' isn't designed for two." She observed the insides quickly and did so after a pause. Laying flush against him stiffly as the cockpit closed and darkness enveloped them. The sounds of the onslaught on their shielding disappeared entirely and he heard her breathing, felt it as she rested her head in the crook of his neck. He had to shake his head of unsuitable thoughts, and laid his hands over control panels level with his waist.

"Welcome; Commander Crichton." Grim spoke into the enclosed space, making Aeryn twitch slightly, John having to stop himself from jerking as well.

"Grim, plot a course back to the 'Leviathan' prison transport." The ship hummed around them, as consoles started to light up, illuminating the interior. "Switch 'three sixty by three sixty' view to the critical four view points and centre them in front of me." Four screens lit up above John's face, a larger top one showed direct forwards view, the smaller screens to either side showed left and right of the craft and the one below showed directly behind him.

"As you wish commander, recalibrating view points and plotting course. Shields at optimum, no damage from the skirmish." John nodded even if his movement was restricted.

"Thanks Grim, good to hear." He inclined his head slightly, addressing Aeryn, "Now, brace yourself. This is going to feel… a little weird." And it was true, their unusual position meant that Aeryn at least wouldn't have been used to the gravitational forces acting on the body in the new way. The craft tilted and had them completely inverted before the twin engines at the back of the fighter fired up and sent them rocketing upwards into the planet's atmosphere.

Aeryn gasped at the feeling, clearly unused to it. John just hoped she wasn't going to be nauseous. "Hold onto me." He commanded her and she complied, arms wrapping around his sides to stop herself sliding upwards with the gravitational effects. The seat he lay in was designed to hold him steady in high speed, hair pin manoeuvres and had automatic straps that slid into place as soon as he lay down, she didn't have the luxury. They broke atmo, the screens compensating for the flames caused by the friction.

"Warning; large object detected, possibly the command carrier called to retrieve the Leviathan." Grim warned. John grimaced,

"Give me a picture Grim, my field of view is limited." The lower view screen changed and gave him a look at the largest ship he had ever seen. The damn thing was bigger than the Sat-strike platforms orbiting earth. At least a kilometre and a half long, "Grim, I need full scan on weapons and capability, if possible; SONAR it for its inventory. I need calculations and options ASAP." It only took moments.

"Commander, threat level of the command carrier is high. Passive sensors indicate high yield energy weapons on the rails around the ship, batteries of three, two on each ring side. Estimating four direct hits before destruction. Titan shields would overload on the second shot if sufficient time is not given to offset surplus energy. Power system compromise by the third, shield burn through and overcharge resulting in failure of high stress manoeuvrability functions and hull compromise on the fourth resulting in plasma core detonation." John face remained a mask of determination. "However, we have the advantage… these weapons are no doubt slow to aim and would require astronomical targeting calculations if stage three evasion is implemented. Given current analysis of Prowler fighters, with Titan shields operating as they are and assuming you are still as capable as you normally are, I would suggest a seventy eight percent chance of success in harassing encounter." He could see the Prowler D'argo was flying heading directly for the Leviathan. He banked sharply towards the carrier and brought Reaver around to face the massive vessel.

"Any defences?" he asked. Grim hummed as he went through what he discovered, trying to deduce possibility of any shielding device. Surprisingly it was not Grim who answered.

"A defence screen." Aeryn spoke up, almost tentatively. "A high energy drain defensive shield." She paused, if she was on death row before, she was now on torture to death row, what she was doing was treason. "Only useful in confrontations with ships of equal or larger size, the shields don't allow them to return fire. They also take time to activate. A few microts for the shields to completely envelope the craft." John turned his gaze towards Aeryn as best he could in their confined space. There was silence between them before John spoke

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "Grim, arm high yield concussion charges for manual release and set up trajectory for zero –g delivery. Prime anything else that may have an effect on its hull, exhaust the payload, it's all or nothing here." The computer hummed again

"Yes commander, though I must inquire, why are we moving to engage?" John took a breath

"Buying time Grim, the Leviathan is probably our only way out of here, and last time I checked she wasn't doing too well speed wise. If the Peacekeepers recapture her, game's up for us as well." He could imagine a physical representation of Grim would be nodding.

"Understood sir." John shifted and let Grim work as the command carrier got closer, undoubtedly they had detected them.

"Are you alright with this?" Aeryn shifted above him awkwardly, "What?" she was avoiding the question, stalling, she wasn't _that_ ignorant.

"Me killing your comrades." John clarified, "Something you're also helping me do." She was silent before coming up with a half certain answer,

"I… I am no longer a Peacekeeper…" she seemed to want to say more, but John knew she wouldn't. She was still in shock about her own status. Peacekeepers where all she had known and now… now things had changed with two words; irreversibly contaminated. She was an exile.

"Commander, scans indicate the main weapons of the carrier are powering up and targeting us. Also detecting cold core power ups on approximately a dozen smaller craft in its interior." John nodded

"Copy that Grim, accelerating to attack. Mark as many possible targets as you can…" he paused "hold on tight. This is going to be fast and rough." He mentioned to Aeryn, who on cue held onto him tighter. His hands gripped down on the panels and they became mobile controls. He banked sharply, rolling into a better attack vector as small prowlers and bulkier troop carriers; Grim identified them as Marauders, scrambled from the front of the carrier, a docking bay.

The fighters swarmed into a formation and screamed towards him as the Marauders pulled back and of all things, landed on the hull of the ship. "Grim scan those Marauders, what are they doing?" Grim took a moment

"it appears they are dropping troops onto the carriers outer hull, equipped with pulse weapons and mobile warhead delivery systems." John grimaced

"Great… stingers in space." He started to bank in alternative directions keeping himself as hard a target to hit as possible while accelerating Reaver to match the Prowlers streaking towards him. Aeryn was pressed against him with a startled gasp, the Prowlers come within range. Rolling again, John repositioned the fighter and was immediately rewarded with locks. "AFMs." the weapons where instantly selected. He banked again and opened the missile bays. He squeezed the controls. Four spearing missiles dropped away from the bay and after a brief pause, appeared on the forwards view screen and streaking towards their targets.

Three of the Prowlers exploded violently as the warheads smashed into their craft and detonated, the fourth avoided the projectile, barely, but the missile merely retargeted another fighter and hit that one, blowing it to pieces. "Vulcans open fire." A forwards recital appeared, as the cannons roared to life, streaking tracers signified solid slug passage, tearing into two Peacekeepers craft, shredding them, one took rounds to the cockpit, becoming a drifting hull, the other lost an engine and went into an uncontrollable spin and made his wingmen swerve to avoid them. The group opened fire on him as he rolled and banked, accelerating further as they streaked passed him. All of them missed as he continued to make sporadic evasion tactics to keep them from getting a bead. The command carrier loomed closer, John pulling up over the top of the ship and avoiding the main batteries ranges of fire.

"Jesus Christ on a crutch." John swore as he took in just how large the ship was, he could see a smaller protrusion at the fore of the ship, indicating the bridge but had pulled too far past it to attack it. The Marauder crews where now visible, black dots on the outer hull, scurrying around in suits, and toting bazooka like weapons. "Concussion charges now Grim, and see if you can't find a coms, or scanning array on their ship, let's put out their eyes." Cylindrical pods dropped from the underside of the Reaver as he pulled over the top of the command carrier, swerving to avoid torpedoes from the shoulder mounted weapons of the squads that had remained unscathed. Massive explosions and torn plating rocketed up in his wake, even a Marauder was engulfed in the explosions behind him as its crew were also obliterated. More targets showed up on the view screen, marking a sensor array. "Grim, have the Hammerhead rounds been restocked? I'm seeing damn thick armour plating on that array."

"Affirmative commander, one minute of sustained fire available." John nodded,

"Good, cycle to hammerheads." He lined up the array, "Fire." Reaver shook at every hammerhead round that streaked forwards and punched holes in the small tower like array and easily shearing it from the rest of the ship. John pitched into a spin that pulled them away from the debris and swung him back towards the front of the ship, this time he angled his fire towards the inside of the main batteries. The rounds hammered into the flat side of the battery, streaking into its inner working and tearing them asunder. While the weapon showed no obvious signs of decommission, scans showed energy lines to the cannons had been cut. Pulling in close, Reaver swept between the rails that mounted the cannons encircling the carrier and shot off towards Moya even as smaller bolts of energy whipped past him. Smaller defensive cannons struggling to track his movements. John pushed the craft as hard as he could, banking away from the tendrils of enemy fire.

As Moya loomed closer he opened a coms channel, "Moya, errr… Pilot of Moya, this is Wraith Command, are we clear to land?" there was a short silence before the reply came through and a projection of the shell headed Pilot appeared on his lower screen, looking slightly unsure

"You… you have- permission, commander." Pilot said hesitantly. John smiled,

"Much appreciated." The Pilot cocked his head and leaned back slightly in his place.

"You are… welcome commander. Though… I might warn you, Ka'D'argo is not pleased to hear that the Peacekeeper pilot is with you." The Pilot looked down and hit a few controls on his own console, "I have to admit, I am not overly comfortable either." John nodded as best he could,

"Put yourself at ease Pilot, she…" he paused as she shifted, "Is no longer viewed as a Peacekeeper by her own comrades." The alien blinked, mouth open slightly, surprised, "The others will accept her presence or I will leave along with her." Pilot nodded as Reaver started to pull into a better entrance angle.

"I, along with the others have seen what you are able to do and concur with allowing you to stay, you offer a great deal of advantages, defence for one." John suppressed an ironic chuckle, they needed protection from him as well. He had baggage. Reaver touched down in the massive landing bay of the leviathan next to Aeryn's prowler, engines emitting a low whine as they slowly powered down. The screens turned off and darkness enclosed them once again. He heard her breathing. He frowned. She was shaking. His arms came up to her shoulders, brushing them gently.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked as the coffin cracked open and light streamed in. She shook her head, he rolled her over gently so she could sit up, she did so quickly and with his help, stood so she could get off the craft."Grim disengage shielding." The shields died and Aeryn stumbled through them as they shimmered from existence and promptly proceeded to puke all over a rib cage like support of the room. He was right behind her, holding stray strands of hair, fallen loose from the tight leather bound braid, from her face as she emptied the contents of her stomach, the food cubes they had been fed by the prisoners before. 'must be motion sickness,' John told himself as he rubbed her back soothingly, as she all but convulsed "It'll pass," John reassured her. "It happens to everyone the first time." She coughed, her eyes watering from the physical upheaval.

"I don't understand… I'm used to it, I'm a pilot." John shook his head.

"You pilot sitting upright, not lying down, the difference in position is everything." John grimaced as she started to dry retched. Anybody who had experience the most unpleasant feeling of vomiting generally had sympathy for those suffering its effects. But now they had to deal with the current situation; damaged or not, the carrier was going to be a problem. They had hindered its sight and only part of its firepower, John was not even sure if he had done any lasting damage. "We need to get to command, can you move?" she nodded shakily, and he removed his hands before she could shake them off. He set off towards the bridge of the ship, pausing only to monitor Aeryn's progress behind him, every time he turned she would redouble her efforts to keep up. He could read it in her face, she'd been thrown around but she was stubborn, she didn't want to ask for help, she wanted to appear independent, strong, and competent.

The telltale sign of Rygle's throne sled, made itself apparent before John caught sight of the diminutive being. Rygle turned saw them, let out a gasp and pushed his sled as fast as he could towards command. John arrived a few seconds after him as he started to spout off slander,

"They're here to kill us!" he was shouting to Zhaan and D'argo. The PPC came out and was levelled at the alien, if only to prove a point, he still had yet to reload it.

"If I wanted any of you dead, wouldn't I have already taken advantage of the situation and blown you apart from the outside?" the revolver went back to its holster. "My point being if I wanted you dead you would be." John turned to the main screen, looking over the planet, and the massive command carrier in the distance, Prowlers and Marauders still swarming around it, blackened sections of hull and drifting metal showed the damage Reaver had been able to do. The thing was still mobile and if John wasn't mistaken, it was closing the distance between them at a furious rate. "Pilot?" Jon called out, with almost an audible grunt of effort, Pilot became visible on the clamshell projector.

"Yes, commander?" he responded.

"What is Moya's condition?" Pilot swivelled hitting a few controls,

"Not, good" he strained out "Moya is under great stress to keep the remaining systems active, Ka'Dargo has been able to restore the Iriscentant fluid levels in her reserves but the command carrier will be on top of us before we can manage Hetch seven, or Starburst for that matter" He paused, "the command carrier is closing in, sixty metras." John did the calculations, metras where a little longer than miles in distance, the carrier was at least three and a half in length. "They are bringing around their operating Frag Cannons." 'The batteries' John connected.

"What is their range?" Pilot looked up towards John,

"I don't know. Neither I, nor Moya is sufficiently versed with Peacekeeper technology." The soldier turned as he heard Aeryn collapse against the door of the bridge with a gasp, having finally reached it.

"Forty five Metras. Their range is forty five Metras." she ground out, trying to quell her stomach, looking even more unwell upon uttering the fact. John turned back to the screen showing the carrier as it disappeared from view, Moya turning to run.

"Fifty five metras." Pilot warned, John frowned,

"Pilot? Are you diverting the Iriscentant fluids to Moya's starburst capability?" Pilot squinted slightly, a sign of irritation,

"Of course I am, Starburst is Moya's only defensive manoeuvre that can distance us sufficiently from the carrier." John nodded,

"Okay, now is it possible to redirect all of the fluids towards general propulsion?" Pilot rocked back,

"That is not a viable option, Leviathans are not military craft, they are… convoy transports not battle cruisers or fighters" John persisted,

"Then give me a differential. How much would they be able to outrun us by even if you directed all of the fluids into restoring Moya's speed, or even putting it into overdrive." Pilot looked down for a moment before returning his gaze to the screen.

"They outmatch us by Hetch two. Maybe briefly we could match them if I dedicated all of current supplies into restoring the systems, in a sudden burst, but it will not last long." D'argo stepped in,

"So we know it wouldn't work, why are you-" John turned,

"Not on a straight," he interrupted. "Pilot, can you still fly on fairly exact trajectories." Pilot continued trying to stabilise the ship's system.

"I'm doing all can now commander, just maintaining the current systems." John frowned. "Then, can this ship be flown, manually?" he queried, gesturing to the ship's innards around them.

"_Manually?!" _ Rygle scoffed, hoping they weren't seriously considering this, Pilot frowned,

"Yes." He admitted hesitantly "But how are we to-" John shook his head, pacing towards a moving console at the back of the room next to the door, turning over to reveal a set of controls.

"I'm sorry, but there isn't time Pilot, just concentrate on giving Moya as much manoeuvrability you can give her on my mark, make it a massive burst of energy if you can." Pilot still looked conflicted.

"But _Commander_!" he exclaimed, "How will this help us?" John sighed,

"Alright, we know we can't outrun the command carrier and they will simply pick us apart with their weapons, run us down, so I say we use what we can." He paused and walked forwards, pointing at the commerce planet still partially in their view. "There is a planet down there, it has gravity strong enough to hold a moon in orbit." It was true, he'd seen it on the way in. Rygle took in a wheezing gasp "_go back towards the planet!?_" John nodded.

"So we use it, we use the planets gravitational pull to accelerate Moya past normal velocities. We hit this right, we _can _outrun them." Pilot blinked.

"That… that might actually work." His four arms became a blur, "preparing for system reroute. Ready on your mark, Commander." John nodded and then noted a problem, he didn't know how to fly a Leviathan. He turned to D'argo,

"You, can you pilot?" D'argo glared, feeling inadequate, something he didn't like.

"I am not trained as one." He ground out, even as Aeryn gave the warrior a surly look

"You had no problem leaving us down there on the planet, in _my_ Prowler." she spoke bitterly, D'argo snarled at her.

"Okay children, behave!" John snapped, before addressing Aeryn,

"What about you? Can you pilot Moya?" she shook her head,

"I hardly have any bearings," she strained out, stumbling further into the room, steps shaky at best. "Pilots are _not_ meant to fly in a reclined position." She attributed her sickness to the strange motions her body had undergone, John let it drop for now.

"Fine, but at least you are trained, get over here and give me the crash course." Aeryn stumbled over shakily, closing her eyes when she got there, trying to make herself truly believe the whole ship wasn't spinning.

"Alright," she looked to the controls touching each one in turn "This is acceleration, while this is your directional control." She demonstrated movement, by taking the controls and making a fine movement, the stars shifted in front of them, Moya still facing away from the carrier and now the planet. "Twisting the controls gives you turning on the ships horizontal axis." John nodded, 'actually quite simple'.

"What about finer controls, stabilising and subtle vectoring?" she looked to him surprised, not thinking that he would ask for more detail.

"Here," she touched the ball on the column with her thumb, again the stars shifted but Moya didn't change direction, the whole ship drifting to the side.

"Commander!" Pilot shouted in warning "they are in range!" John swore

"Hold onto something!" he cautioned before pushing Moya under a blanket of fire, massive streaking spheres of red energy raced passed them. John banked Moya but kept the direction away from the planet, waiting for the opportune moment. Zhaan had taken a firm grip on a console along with D'argo while Rygle was hovering closer to the floor, and ducking his head muttering again and again

"_Fahrbot_, absolutely frelling _fahrbot!_" Aeryn on the other hand, stumbled into him, making him readjust his footing to stop them both from tumbling over.

"Wait for it Pilot." He cautioned the ships retainer, who nodded, attention focused on him, though he looked more than nervous. "Wait…" He banked again, another volley whipped passed, closer than the last one. His gaze become focused, "HIT IT!" Pilot cocked his head, confused,

"_What!?_" he squawked incredulously as John jerked the controls, pitching Moya into a sharp drift,

"THE FLUIDS PILOT!" John shouted, "GIVE MOYA THE BOOST!" immediately the effect was noticeable, all of the occupants of command cried out in surprise bar John, as gravitational forces starting to act on them, effectively doubled. Rygle skimmed along the floor at knee height to hit the wall, his throne absorbing the impact. The other two sank down to the floor, still holding onto the console, and now, each other, as they struggled to stay static.

Aeryn, likely unwillingly, clung to him tighter to stay standing. He wrapped a free arm around her waist, even while the forces acting on him pulled him away from the controls he held firm, pulling the Leviathan in even tighter, turning it on a dime. The planet came back into view, and so did their assailants, the command carrier there, advancing on them, behemothic, sending massive energy bolts in their direction. Moya shot towards the carrier looming closer, very quickly, and soon they passed it, barrages now harmless. John braced himself forwards as they accelerated and he pulled them out of the carrier's line of fire.

Speeding towards the planet, wreathed in a ruddy orange, the whole of Moya shook as they hit the atmosphere. Pilot let out a stressed groan as if he was under immense pressure. "Hold on Pilot," John grimaced as he hung to the controls firmly, keeping him and Aeryn in place. "Hold on! Keep feeding Moya the juice!" friction started to become noticeable as atmospheric flames licking at the forward screen. "Hold on." John repeated.

"Hetch seven and climbing commander" Pilot gritted out, "Hetch eight." The turbulence got worse, the whole ship shuddered around them. "Hetch nine and still climbing!" Pilot pushed past any pain he may be receiving from Moya and kept things going. "Hetch ten commander," the planet's horizon threatened to take over the forward screen.

"Not yet," John muttered. The rumbling increased,

"Hetch eleven… Hetch twelve, still climbing! Commander, we are at twice the rate leviathans can travel besides starburst!" John gritted his teeth,

"I'm pulling us out, hold on!" he lifted the controls, against the force of the planet's gravity. John's knees bent slightly, but he wasn't a good indication, Zhaan and D'argo were forced to lying flat on the floor still clinging to the console's support while the floating throne Rygle sat upon, hit the floor and its occupant slumped. Aeryn sagged in his grasp, her legs unable to support her own weight. "Hold on." John murmured out his constant encouragement to all that could hear as even he felt the effects of the gravitational forces, his legs shaking at the effort to remain standing. Slowly, ever so slowly, amid gasps of discomfort from those not used to larger than normal g-forces acting upon their bodies, the shuddering started to abate and Aeryn needed less support.

Moya flared once more as she broke free from the atmosphere of the planet in a burst of fire as she ignited the atmosphere of the planet with her passage. Gradually, the shaking subsided completely and the command carrier disappeared from Pilot's senses.

"It's gone…" he murmured amazed at how quickly they simply left the Peacekeeper battleship behind them "we did it! We've escaped!" he cried joyously as the others on command stood, breathing collective sighs of relief, as John let go of Aeryn,

"Thank you," he said, genuinely, looking her in the eye, he meant it. John himself let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding as Zhaan walked over.

"You can let go now John," she started as John had to consciously take his hand off the controls "thank you," and then, she did something he'd never forget; she took his head in her hands and put her temple to his. He frowned in confusion before his eyes nearly rolled back in his head and he gasped as the strangest sensation he had ever felt passed through his body. He shook his head as she released him and walked away. He looked around and saw different expressions.

Rygle looked close to puking, D'argo looked close to envious and Aeryn was hiding her reaction, having surveyed the occurrence and then quickly resettled her gaze towards the front view port. Giving up on getting an explanation, he settled for cracking his neck.

(insert break)

It was at least an Arn later that found John laying in the open cockpit of Reaver.

"So, give me an inventory manifest Grim, what weight to I have to slug around?" The ship hummed for a moment before responding,

"A colt 45, and SOCOM MK 23, five magazines each, fully stocked. P90, four magazines, fully stocked. M4 custom, interchangeable attachments from a 'master key' underslung shotgun to a grenade launcher or fore-grip, scopes include red dot and assault, with laser sights and flashlight." John nodded as he took the information in. "Then there is M17A3 Achilles, three mags, six in storage, beginning restock and the plasma forged combat knife, and PPC revolver, on manual restock." John paused slightly, as he'd been absently slotted heavy rounds into the irregular firearm. He flicked it shut with a satisfying click and slid it into its dynamic holster, just in front of a hidden compartment in the slightly bulky holster that held quick loading cylinders for the weapon that he hadn't touched yet. "Consider it restocked" he updated the ship, undoubtedly already logged the info away before continuing "Ship armaments are nearly depleted commander, Vulcan thirty millimetre rounds are down to twenty five percent of full capacity, hammerhead rounds are all but exhausted, though there is still a close to full payload of AMFs, the concussion charges will take time to replenish, estimate twenty four to thirty hours to complete restock." his ship finished of calculations. John shifted,

"And the matter compressors can be configured to restock all of these armaments including the ships? When can I expect a full restock?"

"Recalibration is already complete commander. Completion of resupply should be completed in a maximum total of fifty hours." The ship replied. John sat up, and patted the side of the ship,

"Good work Grim," dropping down to the hanger floor "Bring yourself down to level one alert, get some shuteye, but keep the restock running, we need to be ready and able ASAP. So do get some cool down time." The ship hummed in response before control panels and view screens darkened,

"Affirmative commander, have a good night- rest." The craft's AI corrected itself, as it started to find imprinted responses no longer valid for their situation. John gave a small grin,

"You too." He groaned quietly to himself, he hadn't slept for at least twenty four hours, up all hours of the night making sure the calculations for the Reaver's grav spin were correct, making sure the shields were configured, checking, rechecking, planning out the assault, undoubtedly failed due to his absence. He stopped upon leaving the bay, seeing the Luxon; D'argo in the corner of his eye. He let out a weary breath, "Wanting a rematch?" he asked blandly, testing the waters.

"No." the tentacle adorned alien rumbled, "I believe, we need to talk." John turned to D'argo who held his sword in his hand,

"Very well." John acquiesced. D'argo remained silent for a moment.

"you are a warrior, a soldier, competent. We have decided that you may be of some use to us, so you are welcome to stay for as long as you wish." John nodded,

"As advanced as Grim is, as the Reaver is, it's not really something I could use to run from the Peacekeepers indefinitely. At least with Moya there is a greater chance that we will be able to stay ahead of them; sustainable flight capabilities, living conditions better than the military garrison on my planet." He turned and moved towards the Luxon "we offer each other mutual benefits, I can protect you, Moya, the others…" he hesitated "the… abilities rendered to me by my race make me more than suited to vocations of violence." He looked down, expression blank, posture akin to shame but he looked up and straightened just as quickly. "While Moya can provide me a haven. A place to rest, to recuperate." D'argo nodded,

"Your presence is not truly my concern, but I give you fair warning; I've spent eight cycles onboard this ship as a prisoner and now I am free. Threaten that freedom, and I'll kill you." John shrugged

"Acceptable terms, I shall endeavour to safeguard _all_ of our freedoms. We are all on the run." D'argo looked at him with what John could only read as grudging respect, yet also confusion

"And why would you be so willing to protect whom you have only just met? Against foes that may be just in their pursuit of us? We were prisoners for a reason." He seemed to hesitate more during his last sentence, it didn't escape John's notice.

"I don't know your crime, I don't have to, and from my short time here I can hardly adhere to my conscience and label the Peacekeepers as altruistic, they would damn their own for trivial reasons. It begs to question how they would treat those who are not of their own ranks." He raised a questioning eyebrow to his rhetorical question. That respect he saw in D'argo's expression only grew, before he wiped his face clean of indicative positioning, and inclined his head, walking off towards the quarters he had picked for himself.

It seemed, D'argo wasn't his only visitor. He spied Aeryn, propped in an alcove behind a wall support, "You 'need to talk' as well?" he asked dryly while giving her a sideways glance.

"No." was the blunt answer, callous.

"Ah…" he began, turning towards her, "Now I understand." He took a few swaggering steps towards her.

"Don't presume to understand me." She snapped stiffy at him, fiddling with something off the work bench in the docking bay.

"Oh I think I understand you, more than you know, I've been known for empathy." He stopped, leaning on the support she was nestled behind. "Your life, at least the one you know, you knew, is over. Irredeemable. You are now trapped, trapped in the life of a fugitive." He leaned closer, "And it's all… because… of me." He leaned back casually as her fist sliced through the space his face used to occupy. Aeryn had vacated her position and almost leapt at him, fists flying, eyes brimming with unbridled fury. Ducking under a left hook, after turning away from a straight that would have knocked his lights out, John raised his arms and defended himself. He blocked a kick, recoiling from the force, his arms aching, dodged a punch as Aeryn screamed at him

"You think I don't know that?!" he gave her shoulder blade a shove, pushing her away from him, but she recovered swiftly and came forward with another right straight. He caught the blow, slid through her defences, and grabbed the back of her neck, hooked a leg around hers and pushed his weight forwards.

They both toppled to the floor, Aeryn gasping as the wind was knocked out of her, John's hand stinging slightly from where his knuckles had stopped her head colliding with the floor. "GET OFF ME!" John grunted as he trapped a knee before it became a threat to his genitals.

"No." a fist thudded into his side, hitting a soft spot in the armour, coupled with a pant of effort from his captive. He hardly flinched, for a blow that would have normally broken ribs, he was coping well. The blow came again, and again, and again. John's stare never wavered from Aeryn's still full of spite, anger, reckless indignation.

Unexpectedly, something unusual occurred,

The blows began to weaken, and walls that had taken years of training and conditioning to build, never truly tempered, begun to crumble under a torrent of emotions. Like a sand castle on the beach against the unwavering tide. It took more time for hardened soldiers of the battlefields of Earth to break down. Her eyes moistened, the blows stopped and her fingers merely clung to the black coat over the reflex armour tightly in a vain attempt to cause discomfort. The gasps of effort became defenceless whimpers, unbefitting of a soldier, but understandable of a woman who had just lost her reason for existing. She wasn't a soldier anymore, she wasn't a Peacekeeper anymore, and now she was forced to accept it.

She let out a sob… her eyes squeezing shut denying the exodus of tears that to her own personal shame; John Crichton, this 'Wraith Commander', not even a Sabacean, knew they were there, she would have been ashamed enough if he was a comrade. He rolled off her, onto his quickly darkening side, and sat up. She subconsciously expected him to act the same way any Peacekeeper would; an uncompromising boot to her side or a blow across the face, however, he reaffirmed the knowledge that he was not as he took her shoulders and pulled her to him. Resting her head on his leg, tracing strokes of his calloused knuckles over her furrowed brow, still slightly slick with sweat from her bout of conscience instigated sickness. One hand remained on her right shoulder, squeezing it lightly in subconscious reassurance while he continued to cradle her head, rubbing her temple in small circles.

Simple actions, simple gestures to provide some level of comfort, however small. He sat there with her for a few long minutes, Zhaan had been walking by the area when she spotted the curious scene. She paused as John looked up at her, noting her hesitant concern. She continued on her way quietly, not willing to disturb either of them more than she already had. John reached out with his thoughts, and called for a small favour. Aeryn's discomfort eased as she slowly grew weary. Her expression relaxed as she took in a few shuddering breaths. Before her consciousness left her, John spoke,

"I don't dangle the truth in front of you to hurt you." He brushed a lock of errant hair from her brow, "aggravate wounds…" he trailed off for a moment, noticing her leather bound braid had started to unwind "I state it so you know, that _I_ know." That was the last thing she heard, she didn't have the strength nor the will to respond. She went limp. John gave out yet another sigh each one seemingly more accentuating of his state; weary. He slid his arms under the sleeping pilot and picked her up. He strode from the area, avoiding well used junctions to one of the cells they would all be using as accommodation from now on.

He entered a vacant cell, close to Zhaan's quarters but far enough away to give both females a level of privacy. He laid her down on the slightly rippling cot, what looked like a gold silk sheet over it. It looked like it was meant to ergonomic for a person's spine, it was his best guess at any rate. His brow furrowed slightly prior to him taking her loosening braid into his hands and unravelling it gently. The leather strap was as simple as it looked and merely spiralled around a plait that seemed out of place for someone living a life so regimented by rules and regs of what may as well be considered a PMC. Or 'race' rather than 'company'.

Once again he found himself coming short when it came to knowing Peacekeeper habits, the plait may be simply for efficiency, keeping hair away from the face and allowing a flight helmet to be worn. The three-lock plait came undone just as easily with his skilled hands. God knows he'd had to do it enough for Kim back on Earth, at least when he went to Kansas for what SFOD-D called 'rehabilitation'. Before he knew it he was straightening out slightly curled locks of silky black hair. He brought his mind back to the present and laid the back of his hand on Aeryn's forehead, thankful it had dried and she had stopped sweating.

He left Aeryn to rest in her improvised quarters, as far away from Rygle's snoring as he could make it, taking discrete advice from Pilot from some of the clamshell viewers about the ship. He took the cell he'd woken up in. He let out another breath before muttering to himself "Too many men, too many people, making too many problems…" the lyrics coming to him now as he sung softly, "And there's not much love to go around… Can't you see this is a land of confusion…" He settled down on a bunk, a lullaby from a music box ringing in his head, destruction in his dreams… bodies lying in the streets, fire sweeping the Earth , cities turned to dust… retaliation.

**R&R please**


End file.
